I’m able to get out of the alleyway and run two blocks back toward the club, but a gun fires and I swerve down an alleyway. Looking around frantically I’m not sure where I am at the moment, but I only know to keep running, because if I stop, I’m going to be dead.
Continuing to run, I realize I’m on Lindley. Okay, I do know where I am. I do fucking know.
Think. Think. Think.
I didn’t bring my phone, so I’m fucked. I’m the only one who can watch out for myself right now.
I’m by Pershing Square . . . maybe I could use that to my advantage. I run as fast as I can until I’m on the orangish-red stone covering the park. Taking a breath of relief, it quickly ends when I feel arms wrap around me and slam me to the ground. “No, no, no. Let me go, please. Please, I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you more than your boss!” I cry, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“O. It’s me.” Incognito’s soothing voice reassures me, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. How did he know where I was?
“H . . . how d-did you?” I stammer out, wiping the tears from my eyes.
He pulls me into his strong arms, holding me tightly against him like he did when we’d be in his room. He’d always hug me so tight. So tightly that I felt calm and reassured no matter what type of thing was going on.
“I knew you were pullin’ a stunt as soon as I saw what you were wearin’. Sure glad I tailed your ass.” He confesses.
I nod my head, unable to hold back my tears. “Me too.”
He places his hand behind my head, pressing his lips to my forehead and simply sits here, holding me close. “You knew this was risky and you did it anyway, O’. Fuck.” Incognito and I dated for four years, until three months ago, when my sisters were slaughtered and . . . and I lost my freedom, and I became the woman holding the deal with the Reapers.
When my sisters died I didn’t just lose them, I lost the love of my life. I lost him.
I tear my head away from his grip and look at him, with nothing but a small park light illuminating us. “I needed my freedom for one last night. Everything has been taken from me, Inc.” I call him what I always have, looking into his dark eyes, then down across his toned body, following his tattoos down until I see his hands. The hands that have my name tattooed on his fingers.
Even now, with over three months of staying apart, it hurts just as horribly as it did the first day. Tears continue to spill and I pull away from him, knowing being this close with him is haunting me like a ghost. I only want to be in his arms like this forever, his body towering over me while we’re making love.
Incognito was my first in every sense of the word. My first love. My first time. My first fucking kiss. I’ve loved this man since I was a teenager, and he’s what I’ll never be able to have.
Not now.
Not since the Reapers MC came into the picture.
“Octavia, um, I should get you back to the clubhouse.” He coughs to clear his throat, telling me his plan.
Shaking my head from side to side, “No, Inc. I can’t go with you. Please don’t make me.”
“I . . . I think you need to. I don’t know who the fuck he was working for. I saw him chasing you and shot him in the head. I didn’t even fuckin’ think, O’. I just saw you in danger and I reacted. I need . . . I mean, I’m asking you to come with me so I can get you home safely. We need to keep you alive because tomorrow—”
“That fuckhead from the Reapers is coming. I know!” I scream, losing it. I’m barely holding any of this inside. “Trust me, I know. Look, I’m sorry, but . . . don’t follow me. I need to . . . I need to think about things on my own terms.” I’ve never ran from him before, but this will mark the first time.
Hopefully, it’ll be the last.
I can’t bear what’s happened between us. How we went from everything, to nothing— all because of my father’s deal with the Reapers, with a Prez who’s dead.
Chapter Three
The wolf in my heart will never let the world see the lamb is in my soul— but sometimes you see it in my eyes.
~ Unknown
Octavia
“I’m surprised you showed up here,” He says, leaning against his wooden island.
I nod, shocked I’m even here. “Yeah, me too.”
He furrows his brows. “So, why did you?”
Troy asks such a good question, one that even I don’t know the answers to. At least not yet. “Not sure,” I mumble, looking at the faux brick wall behind his TV. I bet it’s wallpaper, it’s probably not even stone.
“Sure, you do. You know, you can’t play the dumb little girl forever, Octavia.” Octavia. Everyone in the family calls me O for short, but not Troy. He was never around long enough to get that memo. But of course, his mom never let him around us. We were negative influences, bad role models. She made a plethora of excuses on why we couldn’t come to his birthday parties as a kid, or he couldn’t come to ours. Dad had to get us enrolled in the same after school daycare just so we could see our brother. Isn’t that sad?
Even now, here we are in our twenties and our relationship is still stressed. I shut my eyes for a second and look to my brother, who looks so much like our father it’s uncanny. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. That would be safe I mean.”
“Sure you do, the club. Why’d you come here?” He questions, walking over. He takes a seat across from me in some modernized black leather armchair.
“I needed a break, Troy. Things change tomorrow. I just . . . needed some space where I could think on my own.”
“Change how?” He asks.
“I’m moving to Montana tomorrow, I think. Honestly, I don’t have the details. I’m sure I’ll be told sometime in the morning by our father or Xander.”
Troy’s focusing in on me a bit more than he was before. “Octavia, what do you mean? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Dad made a deal with another club,” I’m realizing now that I’ve never had to say this out loud before. “One of the girls was supposed to marry the son of the Reapers MC Prez. Since all of our sisters are dead, that just leaves me.”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“Does it sound like I’m joking, Troy?” I snap.
He glances down to the floor in what I believe is disbelief. He probably can’t fathom why our father would do something like this, but I know why. Before I was born there was a war with the Demons of Hell MC, a war so gritty and horrid that our father did the one thing he’d never done before— he retreated. He pulled what was left of his club and started back up in Los Angeles. Securing the Reapers as our allies was important, as it still is in a sense.
I didn’t care about all of this until I became the woman being sent away. It’s been over twenty-something years. Can’t they just throw out this ridiculous agreement? I don’t understand why it’s even still happening. Our club is great. We might only be one measly club, but we’re strong.
“Holy shit. I knew he was fucked in the head, but I had no idea he was like this.” Troy states.
I can’t help but roll my eyes, “Yeah, well, you were never around as a kid so you didn’t see it. Nowadays he prefers to ride around, drink and do what he typically does.”
“I can’t believe Jack did this to you,” Troy doesn’t call our dad, well, Dad. He calls him Jack.
“He did it to all of us. I’m just the one with the shortest straw.” I grumble.
“Wow, that was morbid. You’re here, still breathing and you’re complaining you got the short straw? Didn’t our sisters get that? They’re the ones burned into nothing but ash.”
Okay, maybe that was a little fucked up. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant . . . shit. I don’t know. I never expected to be in this position.”
“You aren’t in any position. Just don’t do it. It’s not that difficult.” He says, throwing his hands up in the air from his obvious frustration.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is. You’re the one ma
king it difficult.”
Jesus. Why the hell did I even come here? “I can’t just do that. You may not understand what it’s like to be part of the club ‘cause you were never around when we were kids. Hell, even now . . . it’s not like you make an effort to be one of us. Things are done for a reason, Troy . . . and I can’t defy this decision Dad made years ago. ‘Cause even with his eccentric personality, he does things for a reason. I think he needs the connections. I don’t think he has the same connections as the Reapers.”
Troy shakes his head while his face flushes red. “I will never be a criminal, Octavia.”
“We’re not criminals, dear brother. We simply do things the law won’t.” I defend not only myself, but my friends and family.
Troy scoffs, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. “There is a system in place for a reason. It’s not my fault if you don’t understand why it’s there, and I won’t keep preaching to any of you when you don’t give a damn.”
I rise, realizing my time here is coming to an end. I came here because it was one of the only safe places I could come. We’ll always have a stressed relationship with Troy, and I don’t know if it’ll ever change. I walk over to his front door and turn, looking back at him. “For what it’s worth, I truly hope you never have to see the world the way we do. I pray that your precious system doesn’t let you down the way it has to us.” I say my peace, not even listening for a goodbye from him and leave, heading back to the clubhouse.
Tomorrow, my life will change forever.
Chapter Four
“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”
~ Federico Garcia Lorca
Zane
“You ready for this shit?” Grim, my Sergeant at Arms, asks.
Shrugging my shoulders, I answer. “As ready as I’m gonna be. Fuck, I’ve known about this for longer than I can remember . . . but I gotta admit, never thought it would actually happen.”
Grim cocks a brow, “You thought this would never happen?”
“Yeah, I know, it was dumb. They just never said shit to us for so long.”
“Maybe they were waiting to see how their Hunger Games life worked out. You know? See who had the best odds in their favor or whatever. Obviously, it was Octavia.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s a brutal joke, even for you. Someone’s been killin’ these girls and you gotta make jokes.”
“Damn straight I do. I’m kinda wonderin’ why you’re still gonna shack up with this chick when she has a bullseye on her back.”
I shoot Grim a knowing look from across the hotel room. “You know damn well why I’m still honoring this agreement.”
Grim’s joyful smirk turns into a grimace after realizing why. “Your dad made the decision and you’re gonna honor it.”
“Bingo,” I murmur,
Grim and I were the only two who took the trip from Montana. We were gonna ride out, take a whole week and just enjoy our time on the road . . . but honestly, I don’t have the luxury of doing it. So much is happening in our club, too fucking much to list. I have decided I’ll be making a surprise pit-stop to Las Vegas for a day before the three of us fly back to Montana. I have a feeling Damon isn’t telling me something, and from what I’ve heard no one has heard from Amara in a bit.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’ll be damn sure I’ll be finding out. “How we doin’ this? You haven’t really told me much to be honest.”
“Quick as possible, like fuckin’ a clubwhore. Slidin’ right in, then slidin’ out just as fast.” I comment, rising from my chair. I wanna make sure my carryon is sorted and we’re ready to go. We got to the airport last night around eleven after missing our flight because of some nuisance shit back home. I’m hoping I can sign the necessary documentation, get Octavia and we can get our asses over to Vegas. Bein’ away from the club is makin’ me nervous.
“Got it. When we leavin’ to go over to the Raiders’ clubhouse?”
“Now,” I grumble, “Get your ass up, we gotta go.” It’s already a little past one. I was hopin’ we’d be able to get up earlier but we were both exhausted from the previous night.
“Uh, Zane. Before we go, can we chat about last night?” Grim asks.
I nod, knowing what he’ll bring up. We both got a little plastered at the hotel bar once we got here, and shit went down between us. No one in the club knew this about me, not even my own brother . . . ‘cause I’d always been afraid to tell them. For fuck’s sake, I grew up in Montana.
“Look, I’ll be real with you. The whiskey helped. You were one gorgeous woman,” I joke to Grim.
His eyes widen and his face flushes with a bright red. I see how nervous he’s getting. Probably just as bad as I am. “Prez, listen . . . I’m not gonna judge. I’m . . . that way too. I just hope you’ll keep that private. If any of the brothers knew about it, I’m worried they’d . . . give me shit about it.”
I’m bisexual, but I don’t tell anyone. I don’t know if I ever will. It’s better if the club sees me as some manwhore fuckin’ bitches.
Well, fuck. They can’t even look at me like that now. I’m about to lock it down with Octavia. I’ll always have to hide this side from them, but I’m okay with that. Even if I told them, they’d probably look at me differently when they shouldn’t ever do that. I’m the type of man who takes control in every aspect of life, whether it’s the club, or in the bedroom.
“You’re bisexual, you mean?”
Grim nods, “Yeah, the only thing that matters to me is the personality underneath.”
I give him a nod, totally understanding that. “Yeah, well let’s agree to keep our preferences a secret. I don’t want anything gettin’ out. Let’s get goin’,” I murmur, ready to head out and meet my betrothed.
Might be odd to say, but the Raiders’ club reminds me of the Skulls Renegade MC out in Tennessee. They have a fully operational bar too. I’m seeing a trend between a good bit of clubs they are preferring to open bars as a way for consistent clean income. No blood money usually means less problems.
We ended up takin’ an Uber to this joint. Breaker told us to come straight into the bar, which they call The Clubhouse. I bet they think they’re smartass fucks. Grim and I walked in and were met with a good mix of normal patrons, plus some obvious club members.
“Holy crap, is this gonna be a club war or something? You see they have different cuts on. Isn’t it an unspoken rule for them to not go into other’s territories?” One blonde chick asks her friend at the bar. Obviously these two dimwits aren’t with the club.
“Only if we were enemies, darlin’.” I inform them, looking past the two of ‘em. There are a couple girls behind the bar but given the way their tits are on display like a piece of meat I know they’re property of the club.
An Asian lookin’ dude is behind the bar, “You Zane?”
I nod, “Yep. Supposed to meet Breaker.”
He continues wipin’ out a pitcher and motions for the door to the left of him. “You can go head back. He’s been expectin’ ya.”
The door he’s tellin’ us to go through flies open and out comes a fuckin’ vision. She’s dressed in an army green tank top with some sort of hot mini-shorts . . . or maybe they aren’t mini-shorts. She is kinda tall for a chick.
“Fuck you, Xander!” She screams, lookin’ like she’s about to breathe fire. All of a sudden she turns around, “And fuck you too, Dad. Fuck the both of you!”
She starts to storm past me and I reach out to grab ahold of her. Without even thinkin’ about it she puts me in a lock, “Do you know who you’re touching? I’ll break your fuckin’ hand without thinkin’ twice, motherfucker.” Her eyes drift down to my cut and she snickers. “Of course. I should’ve known.”
“Hey Cinnamon, how you doin’ baby?” Cinnamon is a great name for her, with that red hair of hers, combined with her spicy attitude.
She glares unlike any other woman I’ve seen before and I know shit w
on’t be boring. Damn, I’m ready for this show to get started.
Chapter Five
“Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute.”
~ Edgar Allan Poe
Octavia
I don’t know what I expected out of Zane Monroe, but it wasn’t this. If someone were to tell me the man had a face like one of those guys on the cover of GQ with a body from Inked I would’ve said they were lying. He’s hot, but he’s a fucking asshole who should know not to just put their hands on a woman.
“Did I stutter? Let me go,” I hiss, not wavering my eyes from his own.
“Is that any way to speak to your fiancé?” You know, I’d figure this is something my brother would say. But nope, this came straight from my dad’s mouth.
I rip myself away from Zane and scowl at the old man, with his salt and pepper beard, and tattoo covered body. The old man doesn’t scare me. Why should he? Especially when he’s off doing whatever he does these days. It’s probably drinking. Most of the time he reeks of old whiskey.
“Is this any way to treat your daughter, you sick bastard.” I snarl, charging up to him, I whip my hand back and slap my palm against his cheek. While my hand radiates with a burning sensation, my anger doesn’t falter. I’m furious, angrier than I’ve ever been in my life. He expects me to not only marry this man but sign a physical contract and verify I’ll give him heirs.
What. The. Fuck. Is. This.
We aren’t in the nineteenth century. Things like this aren’t done anymore. Without thinking about it, my dad wraps his hand around my throat and presses me against the wall. “Do you think I care about your selfish needs? This was done for the club, for everyone who depends on us, Octavia. Sometimes we need to put our own needs aside. Fuck, tell me you don’t understand that. Tell me you can’t comprehend why I made this decision.”
Zane (Reapers MC Book 11) Page 3
